


Our Dictionary

by Angel_Bazethiel



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types, The Heroes of Olympus - Rick Riordan
Genre: (in a way), A Series of Flash Fiction, Angst, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Not Canon Compliant - The Trials of Apollo, POV First Person, POV Nico di Angelo, POV Second Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 4,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22014838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Angel_Bazethiel/pseuds/Angel_Bazethiel
Summary: epitome,n.I can’t think of one word that can fully mean what we have. It’s far from perfect, but it’s too good to be imperfect. It’s not always happy, but it’s not always sad either. We are together, but not quite as one. We do have each other, but we’re still separate beings just keeping each other company.I suppose I have to concede that whatever this is, has to be love. Platonic, romantic, ours. The precious resin seeping through our cracks, holding us together, keeping us bound.(A non-chronological series of flash fiction.)
Relationships: Nico di Angelo & Jason Grace, Nico di Angelo/Jason Grace
Comments: 9
Kudos: 42





	1. A

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! Just a little warning: it’s been a while since I wrote for this fandom. I may be a little rusty. So have some flash fiction (some dribbles, some drabbles) :D Maybe when I get a hang of writing the characters I can rehash some of my old shit and make them gayer ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) 
> 
> This is inspired by D. Levithan's _A Lover's Dictionary._ I made this in 1st PPOV just like the book bc it feels right. ~~I hope that doesn't turn you off.~~ The "you" here is, of course, Jason. I hope you enjoy! :D

###  **aliquant** , _adj._

I don’t like hanging out in odd-numbered groups. Especially when you insist I join you and the Seven in your monthly gathering. I would have been okay with it if it weren’t for the fact that I am not really part of the Seven.

Then Calypso starts coming too, but now we’re _nine_. And everyone keeps pairing off.

Leo and Calypso.

Frank and Hazel.

You and Piper.

Percy and Annabeth.

And oddly it isn’t the last pairing that bugs me the most.

It isn’t like it was Percy that dragged me here, only to be left alone just so he can get it on with his girlfriend.

It isn’t like it was Percy that kept his hand on my elbow to keep me from leaving, only to let go when his hand finds his girlfriend’s.

It isn’t like it was Percy and his girlfriend that tightens my chest and makes me feel cold.

  


* * *

  


###  **away** , _adv._

You’re leaving. _You’re leaving_.

After all those things you told me we’re going to do if I stay, you’re leaving.

“Just for a little while,” you say. “You have other friends now.”

“But…” I want _you._

You don’t tell me why.

You say that you just have to be away.

And I understand that. Truly. But please talk to me.


	2. B

###  **bad** , _adj_.

When the nights get bad, we would go to the ever-trusted 24/7-open McDonald’s. We’d have five orders of KitKat Mcflurry, another five of the Oreos flavored, and mountainous heaps of fries.

In the morning, we’d moan about our stupid decision making. But for now, we bury our nightmares with sugar and salted potatoes.


	3. C

###  **cadence** , _n_.

_You are the song stuck in my head  
Every song I’ve ever loved  
Playing again and again and again  
And you can get what you want but it’s never enough_

Fall Out Boy plays in the radio and isn’t it so fitting? We drive through the night and the stars reflect in your eyes. Spring wind touches my face as I hold your hand. I keep telling you to keep both of your hands on the wheel but you just stick your tongue out and reach for my hand anyway. I wish I can freeze this moment forever.

_And I’ll spin for you like your favorite record used to._

  


* * *

  


###  **carefree** , _adj_.

You look so happy. You sound like Leo and his bad jokes. You walk like Percy and his relaxed gait. You look more like you from before your break-up.

You look so gods damn happy and I didn’t think you’d look any happier. But when you looked at me I feel like I just put up the stars. And you know what? I would do so if it makes you happy.

I would burn my hands just to keep that smile on your face.


	4. D

###  **daisy** , _n_.

I’ve always loved dogs, but they always seem to hate me. It comes with the Hades-kid package.

So when I saw a puppy in a fight – well… less of a fight, more of a beating – with two older and bigger dogs, I couldn’t help myself. I saved the poor girl.

She was scratched up and missing patches of fur, but she’d be okay.

Much later when she’s all healed and cleaned up, she stays.

I tried to look for her owner (because surely no one leaves a golden retriever puppy alone on purpose, right?), but to no avail. And she seems happy enough to be with me, so I let her stay and name her Daisy.

Much, much later, her yellow fur and the scar on her muzzle make me think of a certain someone. Add her very enthusiastic and eager personality and my chest grows heavy.

I scratch her ears as I wonder if you’re thinking of me.

  


* * *

  


###  **dictionary** , _n_.

“You should write a dictionary,” you say in a slurred voice. Your pain medication must be kicking in. Here comes unfiltered nonsense. “You know, so you can be more in tune with your thoughts.”

“I think you mean a diary.”

“Yeah well...” You smile that goofy, stupid smile. “A diary is just a dictionary but with much more words. Dictionaries say the meaning of a word. A diary does that too, but less universal and more personal. There is no absolute meaning! For example—“

You hold up a finger so ridiculously resolute as if you’re in a senate meeting. “—a dictionary has the same meaning as a diary. For me. Yes.”

Absolutely ridiculous.

“Another!”

“Stop screaming!” I whisper-shout. “You’ll wake our neighbors.”

You giggle. You, Jason Grace, feared son of Jupiter, giggle. “An angel can mean some winged dude that lives up in cloud paradise. To me, it means _Nico_.”

I laugh as I tuck you in your bed. I stop when I noticed you grow quiet.

“Nico means love,” you say before turning away and sinking into the bed covers.

I hover for a bit before shaking my head clear.

 _Tomorrow_. We can talk tomorrow.


	5. E

###  **epitome** , _n_.

I can’t think of one word that can fully mean what we have. It’s far from perfect, but it’s too good to be imperfect. It’s not always happy, but it’s not always sad either. We are together, but not quite as one. We do have each other, but we’re still separate beings just keeping each other company.

I suppose I have to concede that whatever this is, has to be love. Platonic, romantic, _ours_. The precious resin seeping through our cracks, holding us together, keeping us bound.

  


* * *

  


###  **exception** , _n_.

The first time I let you hug me, I was so shocked by how happy you got. Your eyes sparkled, electrifying and oh-so very blue. You looked like you felt jumping in the air. I was so surprised when you _did._

I always thought your enthusiasm would wane after a couple more hugs, but it never did. It’s always the same giddiness, the same amount of pressure, the same reactions.

I don’t really like to be touched, but with the way you look and the things your hugs make me feel, I guess you can always be an exception.


	6. F

###  **fallible** , _adj_.

“It was my fault,” you say as I hold you in my arms. My shirt is wet with your tears and sweat, but I don’t care.

I say that it wasn’t. I say that demigods die all the time. People die. It’s part of life. You tried your best to prevent it. And in the end, that’s all we can ever do.

Your best didn’t give the result you wanted, but you _tried_ your hardest. And that’s all that matters.

  


* * *

  


###  **freedom** , _n._

I can never be completely free of Tartarus, of the jar, of the war.

But there’s a little bit of freedom in the starlit midnight sky when I couldn’t sleep. In the small piece of brownie you give me when I can’t eat any more than that. In your iron grip that keeps me from fading into shadows or into nightmares.

A little bit of freedom. Everyday. In every single, little thing.


	7. G

###  **grandiloquent** , _adj_.

For our first anniversary, we planned to try that fancy Italian place. We cleaned up nicely and put on a three-piece suit. It was going so well.

And then some empousai decided to crash our party-for-two.

We don’t know what the mortals saw but we got banned from the restaurant. You’re starting to get frustrated so I reach out for your hand.

“You’re not you when you’re hungry,” I say as I hand you a Snickers bar.

You chuckle at that. “Did you just pull out a candy bar from your breast pocket?”

I shrug, “I have more if you want.”

I pull you down to sit on the curb and we share the Snickers. It’s the best date ever.


	8. H

###  **habit** , _n_.

I don’t know when it starts but every time you laugh, you capture my full attention. You have three kinds of laughter, I notice. The chuckling, quiet one. The swallowed, coughing one. And the one with the full bark and your head thrown back.

I don’t know when it starts but every time I find myself staring, I pinch my arm. I can’t have a crush on another unattainable straight guy. _It can’t be_.

The week ends and my arm is dotted with purple bruises. And, _of course_ , you see them. And, _of course_ , you just have to play the mother hen and fuss about.

I tell you not to worry about it, which then you ignore and still check my bed for bed bugs.

* * *

###  **hamartia** , _n_.

They say that the fatal flaw of a son of Jupiter is pride. But you’re one of the most down-to-earth people I’ve ever met.

I think your fatal flaw is that you always second guess yourself and you’re a people-pleaser. You always do what you think is best for the greater good, and then you doubt your decision.

You often forget to ask, whose good is really worth fighting for? Who is to say whose good is greater? You always serve the people, do right by them, you forget to ask what’s good for _you_.

You forget to ask: what is it that you need, Jason Grace?

And even more so: what is it that you want?


	9. I

###  **indulge** , _v_.

Everyone indulges you whenever you call the Twelfth Legion the First. Everyone outside the senate, that is.

I think you’ve been proposing the idea to them ever since you were just a centurion. I’ve missed quite a lot of the meetings during my early days as ambassador, but I can definitely picture you fighting vehemently for this.

You’re so passionate about it and maybe I wouldn’t ever understand why. But I really admire your stubbornness.

And you’re starting to wear everyone down. I heard Gwen call the legion as you think it should be. The other day I heard Kahale do the same.

I also know for a fact that the Seven never once corrected you when you do it. Frank had even forgotten once in a meeting that it’s still officially the Twelfth Legion Fulminata.

The next meeting is coming up soon.

This should be good.


	10. J

###  **jacket** , _n_.

I was so sad when I had to part with my bomber jacket. But you let me borrow any of your jackets so that’s a plus. But I guess you grew tired of my serial jacket thievery because for my birthday you gift me my own.

And you talked to Percy about this didn’t you?

You bought me a jacket that looks like the upper half of a Spidey suit. The hood can even be a mask!

Gods, I think I may be in love with you.


	11. K

###  **kowtow** , _v_.

You’ve built almost ten shrines in both Camp Half-Blood and Camp Jupiter in a year. I’m so proud of you. I know you’re tired, but I also know you want to continue despite your declining health.

I want you to remember that you have to take care of yourself too. Yes, there will always be yet another god to acknowledge and praise, but you won’t be able to do so properly if you’re sick – or worse, dead.

Can you please stop and breathe? Just for a little while.

Oh, look at what you’ve turned me into. Look at how the tables have turned.

But please, Jason, take a break.

Also, I’ve missed you.


	12. L

###  **lapidescent** , _adj_.

I have been through hell and back, both figuratively and literally. I’ve fought many kinds of monsters and gods. I’ve faced love in all its adversities.

But I’ve never felt more petrified than when I saw Bianca’s reincarnated soul pass by while we’re at Disneyland.

She’s born as a boy this time around. (And I should probably start using he/him.)

I see him on a stroller being pushed by a blonde lady to go meet Peter Pan. I move to follow them but my legs stop working. I see them talk with the Peter Pan actor. I watch as peals of laughter flow through the air. I hear Peter say that a child’s laughter gives life to a fairy and I just can imagine it being true.

Even in the next life he still manages to brighten up the world a little more.

You come back from your cotton candy run and you ask what’s up. You follow my gaze, confused.

They leave after a few moments and I still stare at the spot where they were.

You ask, “You okay?”

I breathe in deeply and close my eyes as I exhale. I look at you with a smile and say in a hopefully unwavering voice, “Yeah.”


	13. M

###  **marigold** , _n_.

You bring home flowers one day, which is very unusual. They aren’t the typical kind to bring home to your boyfriend either. Also, they aren’t in a bouquet but rather in a medium-sized pot.

They are golden, with some copper at their petal tips. Their smell is pungent and musky: half unpleasant, half alluring. They remind me of the sun, bright and brilliant against the summer sky. They remind me of death, the bittersweet end of all things.

“What’s this?” I ask.

You shrug, pink starts to creep up your neck. “I saw them at that shop two blocks away on the way home and I... I-I wanted them to be ours.”

“You just decided you wanted a plant. Just like that? You do realize that I’m death-prone, right? And Daisy might chew on its leaves.”

“You won’t kill this one, I’d see to that. And I’d train Daisy to not eat it.”

“Uh huh.”

I was just teasing, of course. I want the plant too. It’s something that belongs in the sky. And something one would offer to the dead. It's like they're _made for us_.

And they're beautiful.


	14. N

###  **nidus** , _n_.

I come out of my room and everything is quiet. You aren’t in front of the TV or making breakfast. Daisy is happily dozing off on her bed, with no son of Jupiter playing with her. Confused, I knock on your door.

“Mrrmmffm,” comes your reply. I take it as a _come in_ and enter your door.

“Jay?” I ask the big lump on the bed. “I thought we’re going to visit Piper and Coach today?”

“Mmmhhrm hmmhnnm hmmngg”

I raise a brow and peeked into the human burrito that you and your covers are. “What?”

“I changed my mind. I want to stay in today.”

“Okay… but you have to eat. Come watch TV while I fix us up some food?”

“…mmmkay.”


	15. O

###  **our** , _adj._

A simple, three-letter word. And yet, so daunting. A word that says something belongs to _us_.

Us. You and Me.

 _Our_ apartment.

 _Our_ dog.

 _Our_ dictionary.

To share something completely with another person, giving them full permission to handle it as they see fit. And vice versa.

It’s nerve-wracking. But there’s nothing much one can do once they decided to share. Either take it away again or trust the other person.

And I trust you to keep our apartment safe and tidy.

I trust you that you’ll take care of Daisy.

I trust you to stay no matter what the future may bring.

And I promise you that I will do the same because I trust in us.

I trust in _our_ love.

  


* * *

  


###  **oven** , _n._

We never bake. We promised each other that if we ever want a brownie, we could always just get them from New Rome. I’m much better at shadow-travelling now. I can do trips across the country without breaking a sweat.

One fire is already one too many.


	16. P

###  **phobia** , _n_.

You tell me you sometimes dream of being stabbed by 23 swords or daggers. Or being shot by 23 arrows.

You say it’s because you’re born on the first of July and you once wielded IVLIVS. You’re so sure that you’d die similarly to how Julius Caesar did.

So every time you have that dream, I give you 25 kisses.

One for each wound.

Another just because I want to.

And another as a promise that I won’t let that happen to you.


	17. Q

###  **quit** , _v._

The day started as normal as it gets. You make pancakes. We watch TV, repeatedly switching between the news and cartoons. We check-in with Reyna and then we visit Hazel and Frank.

It was a normal Sunday at Camp Jupiter.

No one saw the end coming.

You activate your Orpheus card. You don’t fully realize what you have done. Even I didn’t notice it at first. It's essentially a weak card. At least when played immediately.

But if you play it almost near the end, just when your opponent have a sure-win, it sends all creatures at play down the hypothetical Underworld.

You have no cards left. I don’t have any either.

Every creature card is void. Everyone dies before our eyes. Everyone except one.

You shout a bellowing cry that makes Hazel come check on us. She sees you doing your ridiculous victory dance. And she sees the cards on the table.

She doesn’t ask. She just watches me as I sit still, wide-eyed and mouth gaping. I turn to her.

“That’s it,” I whisper. “I quit. Never again will I touch any Mythomagic card or figurine.”

This is how the world ends.

Not with a bang, but with Jason Grace pumping his fists through the air and shimmying his hips.

  


* * *

  


###  **quixotic** , _adj_.

When I said that I wanted to visit Venice, _I didn’t mean right now_.

But I can never resist those puppy dog eyes.

So here we are, on our unplanned vacation. And Chiron has already sent out campers to find us because we forgot to tell him we’d be away for a little while.

We’re strolling about Piazza San Marco, gelato in hand. Your free hand brushes against mine and I shyly curl my pinky around yours.

I look at you at the corner in my eye and see you staring back at me. You offer a small, hopeful smile.

Emboldened, I fully grab your hand.

I pull you closer.

And smash my gelato right into your face.


	18. R

###  **recondite** , _adj_.

You’re a closet case cuddler. At least, that’s what Piper said. She told me to beware of your murderous smothering. It could kill me, she warned.

But I’m so confused. _Closet case?_ If anything this skeleton (if one can even call it that) is doing the Macarena for the whole world to see. I’ve always known you were a hard cuddler. Even before we got together.

And yes, you may have almost killed me once or twice, but I always have escaped. Shadow travelling has never been handier.

But for the most part, I actually love it.

I really don’t see what’s with the fuss.


	19. S

###  **scent** , _n_.

It’s weird that you keep burying your nose in my hair as you sleep. Especially since every living being says I smell like death.

What does that even _mean_? How does one smell like death?

I don’t smell like rotting flesh. I checked. Everyday. And you probably won’t be this close to me if I were.

“Jay…” I poke you awake. Because you’re too content napping while here I am obsessing about something that some random pegasus told me (as translated by Percy).

You grunt, but you keep your eyes closed. “Yeah?”

“What do I smell like?”

You keep quiet, just breathing in and out. It was when I thought you fell asleep again when you answered.

“Pomegranates.”

* * *

###  **silent** _, adj._

Whenever we fight, you’re always careful to never raise your voice or your hand.

And it makes me angrier.

I want you to shout at me. I want you to grab me roughly, to strike me. _Anything_. Just so I know that you care enough.

Maybe it’s just the anger talking. Of course, you care. You’re always _careful_ to never raise your voice or your hand.

But sometimes, I forget. Especially in the stillness of our apartment. With your last words before you went: “I’m going for a walk. I’d be back. Maybe.”

With that uncertainty in your words, I forget.

I can’t even remember what we were fighting about. It started with your work, I think. Or was it mine?

I can’t remember the last time you smiled at me.

I can’t remember the last time we’ve been _together_. We’ve been so distant lately. Always so busy.

You come back later when it’s almost dawn. I haven’t slept and my eyes have been dry for quite some time now. I sit still on the couch, watching your movements, waiting for the shoe to drop.

Meanwhile, you just stand by the doorway. You periodically shift your weight between your feet. Your eyes stay on that ghastly carpet we got from Leo last Christmas.

When I couldn’t take the quiet anymore, I stand and run to you. I know you’re still angry. I know I am, too.

But I need to hear it so I can remember.

I crash into you and hold you tight. I put my ear over your chest.

 _Lub-dub. Lub-dub._ _Lub-dub._


	20. T

###  **together** , _adv_.

“Do you want to be my roommate?”

I’ve been meaning to ask for months now, the question always in the back of my mind whenever we meet. Dad has been giving me more jobs lately so I’m in LA more often than not. The shadow travel from Pasadena to Hollywood would be a lot shorter than from Camp Jupiter.

“It’s rent free and has a lot more space than your dorm room,” I added.

You smile. “Sure, but I insist on paying rent.”

“Nah. The apartment’s a gift from dad.”

“Like that car that comes with a butler?”

“Shut up. He’s a chauffeur. He doesn’t wait on me.”

“So the _apartment_ comes with a butler, then?”


	21. U

###  **underbreath** , _n._

I learned early on to speak very lowly. The dead are very sensitive to the things the living do. Speaking to them is much too loud so I try to be considerate.

You, on the other hand, are used to holding audiences and giving out speeches. So you speak in a voice like thunder combined with the mountain sound.

But when sometimes I feel like the dead – when everything is just too loud – you keep your voice down. You whisper so softly I can’t hear what you’re saying. You keep your words to a minimum and let your light touches speak.

“You’re safe,” you say as much as you can. And everything eventually quiets down until it’s only you that I hear. And I believe you.

  


* * *

  


###  **unsung** , _adj_.

You always make me feel like I am worth more than I am. No, you don’t get to tell me that I’m really worth this much because I’m not. I’m really not.

Besides, this isn’t about me. This is about you. You can laugh all you want, but you’re the unsung hero here, Jason Grace.

When was the last time anyone has seen the _real_ you? Not the perfect son of Jupiter or disciplined Roman soldier. Not the Hero of Olympus or the great Pontifex Maximus.

You’ve been put on a high pedestal and all everyone sees is the sun behind you. They look away in fear of being blind. And they refuse to destroy the tall marble you are on, not even with the chance to finally have a good look on you.

They refuse to see you.

I refused then too.

But you never gave up on me. You, Jason Grace, never gave up on me. That wasn’t a soldier, a son, nor a hero. It was a _friend_ who saved me, who continues to save me. And I keep forgetting to say thank you, to say that I appreciate you as much as you appreciate me.

You were the first to see _me_ in a long while. Not the traitorous son of Hades or the annoying kid to be taken care of. Not just a weapon to be used in the war or the sad little pet project to be fixed.

You see _me._

And I’m starting to see you too.


	22. V

###  **veritable** , _adj_.

Here are some random facts about you:

  * You call brownies with nuts on top of them ‘impure.’
  * You took a tap dancing class once and you loved it so much I sometimes catch you tap dancing on our _beautifully finished Maplewood floor_.
  * And you put the blame for the scratches on poor, innocent Daisy before coming clean. Shame on you.
  * You love Green Day. And Fall Out Boy. And Panic! At the Disco. You and Thalia are much more alike than you think.
  * And you know how to play the guitar.
  * Also, the flute.
  * You can eat a ghost pepper beef jerky with a stoic face.
  * I mean, don’t get me wrong, in this scenario you’re sweating like a pig on the way for slaughter and you have shed quite a lot of tears. All the while you have a hardened, empty expression.
  * You love burgers. Probably even more than me.
  * Your favorite color is brown.
  * Wait, that can’t be right. Can it? I was so sure it’s purple.
  * You love dancing. Just admit it. I know you enrolled in that modern jazz class.
  * What do you think of ballet? You sure have the discipline and the body for it.
  * You have a raccoon as your nemesis. His name is Conrad.
  * You are the best friend I could ever have, the _best person_ I know.
  * And I love you so damn much.




	23. W

###  **wane** , _v_.

I notice that you and Piper don’t spend as much time as you did before. And when you see each other at camp, all you two share is an awkward wave. No kisses. No hugs. Just that tense two-second moment.

“Oh. We, uh… we broke up.” You say when I point out whatever this is that’s happening.

“What?!”

“Didn’t I tell you? I could’ve sworn I told you.”

You seem unfazed by all this. As if you just haven’t gotten your heart broken.

“Are you okay?”

You shrug and give a sad, small smile.

“But… why?”

You sigh.

“I wish I knew.”

  


* * *

  


###  **will** , _v_.

You ask if there’s something between me and that bossy son of Apollo. I laugh at you for a whole minute before I realize that you’re seriously asking.


	24. X

###  **xylophone** , _n_.

Almost all the words starting with the letter _x_ is either a medical term or an unpleasant term that I never bothered to learn. I hate that letter, but I’ve only come to hate it because I have no good words to associate it with. Society hated it first. The English language hated it first. They never gave the letter a chance.

But there is one word that is quite nice to say. The only one that has redeemed the letter even by a little bit.

Xylophone.

And I suppose I can hold onto that one thing.

And to make matters even better, you’ve put P-H-O-N-E near enough the triple-word-score square.


	25. Y

###  **yet** , _adv_.

You ask why your father has always ignored you. The closest you got on meeting him was when you met his Greek counterpart. Even then it was only for a short amount of time.

You ask why you weren’t enough for Jupiter to at least show himself. You ask if you will _ever_ be enough.

And I don’t know what to say to that.

The thing is… we will _never_ be enough. We could set milestones, have goals as to what kind of person we want to be, but there will always be room for more growth. We are constantly changing, slowly or immediately, for the worse or for the better.

But I don’t think the state of being enough is what matters. It’s the decision to actively change for the better every moment we’re presented the choice that does.

“We aren’t enough, _yet_.”


	26. Z

###  **zealot** , _n_.

I don’t know what I did that made you believe in me. I don’t know what I did that made you think I was brave. I don’t know what I did to deserve this moment with you.

I’m drying the plates and you’re playing with Daisy by the kitchen island. Our friends are in the living room. Percy is laughing at something Leo said. Hazel is rolling her eyes and even Reyna is smiling.

I don’t know what I did to belong _here._ I don’t know what I did to belong with you.

“Hey.” You’re now standing up and you wrap your arms around me.

I don’t realize I was smiling until I answered, “Hey.”

We chase away the forming doubts with a kiss. And I stop caring why you believe in me, just that you do. And I believe in you.

I believe in us.

**Author's Note:**

> Ending the decade with some Jasico, amirite? Tell me what you think hehehehehe


End file.
